


We Hide Ourselves Right Where We Stand

by senioritastyles



Series: Everybody Loves Luke [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3681504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senioritastyles/pseuds/senioritastyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael's in love and Luke isn't helping.<br/>Also, blowjobs are the new marriage proposal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Hide Ourselves Right Where We Stand

**Author's Note:**

> (title is from Runaways by All Time Low)

Luke’s doing it again and Michael might actually punch him soon. He’s threatened to once or seven times by now, but seriously he’s going to do it if Luke doesn’t fucking stop. Okay, not true because Michael could never actually stand to do anything to Luke but make him happy just on the basis that Luke looks really pathetic and heart-breakingly sad when someone hurts him—emotionally or physically. As opposed to when he’s happy and he just looks heart-breakingly handsome. Which is what he’s doing right now, and why Michael is feeling particularly punch-y. It makes Michael angry when Luke does this handsome man-boy thing without even meaning to. 

Luke is sitting in the man-cave on the weird little ottoman thing by the window, staring outside, the midday sun streaming in and making him look like a piece of gold that’s all Michael’s to ogle at. He looks like a stubbly faced sun god or something, impossible and unattainable and infuriating. Michael’s feeling antsy, squirming in his place on the comfy couch and trying to refocus on the game he’s been attempting to play for the past twenty minutes. But Luke’s just sitting there pissing Michael off by smiling out at the window, because he could and should be smiling at Michael, or at least that’s what he’s telling himself. 

Michael picks up a pillow and chucks in Luke’s general direction. He hits the wall but the intent was there and it gains Luke’s attention all the same. “Stop.”  
“Stop what?” Luke asks, looking mildly affronted and beautiful.

“I don’t know. Whatever you were doing, just stop.” Michael orders, attention back on the game.

“I’m not doing anything.”

“Well...knock it off.”

Luke huffs a little laugh and shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re lame.”

“Fair enough.”

The silence settles over their banter like a blanket, although blankets are warm and snuggly and so is Luke and Michael needs to stop thinking now before he—before he grabs Luke by his stupid pretty hair and cuddles him until he can’t breathe or, something.

“We should go to the beach.” Luke offers, staring longing out the window like a Disney princess locked in a tower and waiting for her prince to rescue her; Michael’s definitely going to hit something.

“You know the sun hates me.” Michael counters, clicking a few buttons on the controller.

“No, you hate the sun. The sun doesn’t hate anyone. It can’t because it’s not a living thing.” Luke explains, as if Michael really didn’t already know that.

“Shut up. No nerding in the man-cave.”

Luke snorts. “You’re holed up inside on a gorgeous sunny day playing Call of Duty by yourself. This room is full of nerd even without me here.”  
“Shut uuuuppp.” Michael whines, pouting because Luke’s right and he hates it when that happens.

“Get up, we’re going to the beach.” Luke announces, switching the gaming console and the TV off.

“But I hate the beach.” Michael protests, whining like a child.

“Yeah but you love me, so...beach.”

Michael can’t even argue that because Luke’s right again and that punch-y feeling is coming back. Luke grabs Michael’s arm and tugs him up, dragging him all the way upstairs to Michael’s room. He deposits a grumpy Michael onto his bed and proceeds to go through all his drawers and start tossing clothes and items at Michael. Michael makes out the blur of a black tank top, his swim trunks, sunscreen, and his sunglasses. Luke’s got the extra pair of Michael’s swim trunks in his hands and he sidles into the hallway towards the bathroom, throwing a loud “Get changed!” over his shoulder.

Michael rolls his eyes because he really should not be this willing to do whatever Luke says, but if he’s being honest with himself like he tries to be, he would definitely do anything Luke asked him to do no matter what it was. Which is why Michael knew they were going to the beach from the second Luke suggested it; he just likes arguing and being a pain in the ass. Luke never seems to mind, always willing to put up with his shit at any time of the day, so Michael keeps it up as long as it keeps Luke around.  
Once he’s changed he shoves his sunglasses onto his face and palms the sunscreen, extra SPF because Luke’s a little shit and he knows that the sun and Michael’s skin don’t really tend to agree too well. Luke’s such a little shit for a lot of things, but especially for knowing all the details about Michael’s skincare and other weird little things like exactly the right way to wake him up in the mornings and exactly what he likes in his coffee and how long to wait before giving Michael potentially hot foods and drinks because Michael’s an impatient idiot. Michael wants to hit everything today.  
\--  
The beach is extremely empty today for some reason, although it is like two o’clock on a Wednesday so most people are probably at work like normal human beings. Michael hops out of the car and the heat of the sun hits him far too quickly and he immediately wants to get back in the vehicle and blast the AC—he really isn’t the outside type and Luke should know this by now, and stop asking him to venture out of his house.

“It’s so hot.” He whines, huffing dramatically and leaning against the side of the car while Luke gets the towels out of the backseat. 

Luke just chuckles and slams the door shut, locking the car and dragging Michael out onto the sand. He picks a spot near the water, just shy of where the tide comes in, far enough away that they won’t get their stuff all wet but close enough that Michael won’t have to walk far to come swimming with him. Michael hates swimming, especially in the ocean, and he hates Luke for thinking of his laziness, and he hates that he’ll end up swimming anyway because Luke’s going to ask and he can’t deny Luke anything. He’s just grumpy.

“You’re grumpy today.” Luke comments and Michael’s contemplating over whether or not Luke is a mind reader while watching him lay out their towels on the sand.

“I know.” Is all he offers in explanation, he knows Luke will take it.

And he does. He accepts it as an answer and rids himself of his shirt slowly, always aware of watchful eyes, always so unsure of himself when he doesn’t have to be. Michael feels punch-y towards the world this time, for making Luke feel like he isn’t good enough when he’s way beyond the best thing Michael’s ever seen. He wants to wrap Luke up in a bubble of happiness and love and shut out the stupid world because he doesn’t ever want to see that look of uncertainty on Luke’s face. He knows he used to be one of those people, one of the idiotic kids who teased Luke about the way he dressed and the way he looked. He used to call Luke names too, the same names that have stayed with Luke ever since and made him self-conscious, made him second guess his every move in fear of being made fun of all over again.

But Michael would never do that again. It was stupid and childish, because that’s what they were: children. Just dumb kids who didn’t know how to express themselves without cruelty and dick jokes that weren’t really funny. Now he knows. He knows what it does to people to be criticized and picked on. He knows how that feels, but he also knows that it never goes away. He knows what he did to Luke all those years ago, and he’s been trying every day since to make up for it, to make Luke laugh and smile and to make him forget that he used to be an ass. Somewhere along the way this little crush thing came about and Michael’s so far gone for Luke now that he just wants to make him happy all the time, just be there for him the way he deserves. And now that he’s officially the lamest, soppiest boy on this earth, he’s going to go back to complaining probably.

“Why is it so hot?”

Luke looks over and Michael notices that he’s folded his shirt up neatly and placed his snapback and shoes (upside-down) over top of it. “Because that’s what the sun does, Mikey. It creates heat. You’d know that if you went outside more than twice a year. Shirt off.”

Luke grabs the sunscreen from beside him and Michael does as he told, whipping the black material off and leaving it in between the two of them. Luke huffs and picks it up to fold it and place it neatly in the top corner of Michael’s towel and he is such a dork and Michael is so in love. Luke turns his attention back to the sunscreen, squirting some onto his hands and massaging it into Michael’s back slowly, with soft and warm hands. He rubs every inch and Michael hates him for knowing not to let him put his own sunscreen on because Luke knows he’d miss spots and look like a red and white Dalmatian.

Luke rubs until Michael’s back is totally covered and slightly slick, gliding his hands up to smooth shoulders and rubbing there too. He goes in for more sunscreen, taking one arm at a time and lathering them up too. He takes his time, careful, like protecting Michael from the sun is the only thing he cares about in the world. He moves around to the front now, starting with Michael’s legs and massaging them thoroughly. He goes for Michael’s face next, using small dabs and gently circling his thumb around, paying special attention to Michael’s nose and the apples of his cheeks where he tends to burn the worst. He smooths more sunscreen down Michael’s neck, redoing the tops of his shoulders where Michael also gets bad burns, and then skimming all the way down his torso until his fingertip brush Michael’s swim shorts.

The experience is oddly tender and domestic and Michael’s having marriage-y type thoughts but also super punch-y type thoughts because he’s angry that Luke is compromising his manly man-ness right now. Michael is a man for fuck’s sake, not a school girl that needs her boyfriend to put sunscreen on her. He’s not even sure he wants to be married, except he totally would if Luke asked and he almost did that time in Vegas when he was curled into Luke’s side on the bed and they were serious-joking about the four of them getting married. And of course it had been Luke’s idea to do it, and obviously they didn’t actually, but Michael would be down to have Luke be his forever any day of the week if he could see him smile like he had that day in Vegas.

“We’re swimming, c’mon.” Luke tells him, rubbing some sunscreen into his shoulders and face as he stands up.

“But you literally just put sunscreen on me.”

“It’s waterproof Mikey, c’mon.” Luke says, holding out a hand to pull him up.

Michael debates ignoring the offering and getting up on his own, because he hates Luke for always thinking ahead, but he doesn’t really want to pass up a chance to hold Luke’s hand so. They end up about ten feet out, up to their knees in freezing water and Michael’s got goosebumps prickling his skin all over. He shivers and Luke notices, of course, and he smiles and holds his arms out. Michael eyes him because is this kid seriously offering to hold him in the middle of the ocean just because he’s cold. He’s starting to think he’s the princess in the tower now, because Luke is a literal Prince Charming.

Michael shuffles into the embrace and his skin instantly warms up, like Luke’s got sunshine in his veins or something. He looks like sun, a light tan to his skin and golden brown hair covering his head and flopping over his face and dotting his jawline. His eyes are piercing, shaming the ocean’s color with their clear and bright color, like stained glass that’s been melted under the sun, yet they still look unsettlingly vibrant. 

Luke holds him and guides him out further while Michael struggles to stop all these sappy unmanly, non-hit-y thoughts. He thinks football and monster trucks and video games and shit this water is freezing and Luke is so fucking warm and damn him for being the perfect not-boyfriend. They get in up to their chests and Luke’s still got a hold of Michael’s waist, fingertips grazing the soft fuzzy skin of Michael’s lower back. It feels nice and Michael tries to think of MMA fights and blood-and-guts movies.

“S’cold.” He breathes, the mumble hitting Luke’s throat through the air.

Luke hums in response, shrugging and jostling Michael in the process. He lets go sooner than Michael would like, ideally Luke would hold him at least until forever, but he lets go and quickly ducks under the water. He grabs Michael’s ankle but doesn’t pull him down, just grabs it and swims away, popping up a few feet further out. He rubs his eyes and smiles at Michael, biting his lip ring into his mouth like a challenge and Michael’s always been competitive. So he sinks under and swims to Luke, bumping his head purposely into Luke’s stomach. He surfaces so close to Luke’s face that their lips nearly brush and Michael jolts back like he’d been slapped.

Luke just keeps smiling like it wouldn’t have mattered if they had actually kissed, and it infuriates Michael that it’s so easy for Luke to think that way. That he’s so honest with himself and so in tune with his emotions. Michael’s jealous of it and he hates feeling that way, so he shakes his hair out to distract himself and to make Luke back away with a giggle, holding his hands up in defense. 

“Mikeeeeyyy.” Luke whines, which is ridiculous because he’s already wet so it isn’t like Michael is really doing anything; but that’s Luke: ridiculous and stupid and dorky and Michael wants him so fucking badly.

He smiles and it feels much too fond on his face but Luke seems unfazed while he swims around in a circle doggy-paddle style, looking like a lanky sea lion every time he dips his head under and comes back up. Michael decides he likes sea lions.  
\--  
Back at Michael’s house, they’re wrapped in sweaters and loose sweatpants that Luke warmed up in the dryer while Michael was showering. They’re sitting close on the couch in the man-cave, elbows brushing and pizza grease staining their fingers with a movie playing on the screen. Michael huddles closer, resting his head on Luke’s shoulder as the younger boy immediately shifts to accommodate him, throws an arm around his shoulders. Michael tilts his head up and his nose brushes Luke’s jaw, tickled by the prickly little hairs there and he’s glad Luke didn’t shower. His hair is fluffy and thick from the salt, his skin smelling warm and fresh and briny, rubbed softer than usual by the sand, his sun-washed eyes tired and lazy. A shower would have woken him up, and Michael likes when he’s sleepy and pliant, like a puppy after running around in a park for hours.

“You’re staring.” Luke comments lowly, eyes never leaving the screen.

“I thought about marrying you today.” Michael admits, although he doesn’t know why.

Luke smiles. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, but then I remembered how lame you are.” He jokes, knowing Luke won’t take him seriously anyway.

“You’re mean.” Luke tells him, a laughing lilt to his voice.

“I know, but you still love me.” Michael insists and he thinks his voice might sound far too hopeful that Luke agrees with him, but he knows Luke won’t judge him for it.

“I do.” Luke agrees, squeezing his shoulder to show him he means it.

“I love you too, you know.” Michael looks down, feels his cheeks heat up.

“I know.”

Michael looks up again and finds that Luke’s looking back and it feels like a big moment, this intense eye contact thing they’ve got going on. They’re just looking and Michael’s going to kiss Luke soon if they don’t stop. “Stop.”  
“You stop.”

“I told you first.”

“I told you second.”

“Luke.”

“Michael.”

The silence follows like a shout, echoing against the walls and neither boy backs down. Luke because he doesn’t mind whatever’s going on and what might happen, and Michael because he doesn’t like to lose or admit weakness. So he leans up, keeps going slow and waits for Luke to pull back. It’s like an odd game of gay chicken, one-sided because Luke isn’t scared. He’s brave, so fucking brave, and Michael’s brain hurts from all the feelings he’s been having today. 

“Just do it.”

“Do what?”

“Mikey.” The way he says it makes it sound like he’s scolding a petulant child, like a warning to behave.

Michael leans up the last little bit and his lips brush over Luke’s gently, carefully, like a whisper. It’s delicate and it says too much, feels like too much already. Luke’s eyes are closed and they’re just sitting with their mouths hardly touching, Michael shifting up onto his knees for a better angle. He breathes in deep through his nose and decides fuck it and he pushes his mouth hard against Luke’s. Luke makes a low sound in his throat, Michael feels it rumble against his lips, and it spurs him on enough to poke his tongue out and lick at Luke’s lips. He laps at them, keeps going until they’re open and he can get inside. It feels nice, having Luke’s tongue in his mouth and his in Luke’s mouth, a cold lip ring pressing just under his lower lip. It’s better than he thought.

He hauls himself into Luke’s lap, his thighs bracketing one of Luke’s. His hands seek Luke’s neck, framing it while Luke’s do the same with his hips, pushing his sweater up and feeling the skin there. The kiss stays deep and lazy, languid and slow and drugging even though Michael feels frantic and slightly panicky because this so out of his depth and he doesn’t know where this leads, what should happen next. Luke ultimately decides for him, which is a good thing, he’s good at listening to Luke, so when he’s pushed onto his back with Luke crawling on top of him and reconnecting their lips, he goes with it easily.

Deft hands are pushing his sweater up to his chest, not off, but up enough that he’s exposed and the chill of the room makes him shiver. 

“Cold again?” Luke asks with a smile, staring down at him like Michael's welfare is the most concerning thing right now.

“Little bit.” Michael answers, wishing Luke’s mouth would come back.

It does, but not where he’s expecting it. Kiss-swollen lips glide over his throat, never fully kissing, just running down the skin and making Michael shiver again. They skip over the bunched up knit material of his sweater and land on his upper stomach, near where his ribs are, and they suck little kisses in a downward trail and Michael thinks he knows where this is going now and he really can’t fucking believe Luke is this brave. Michael isn’t, that’s for damn sure. He’s too nervous to even look down for too long.  
Luke’s fingers hook under the band of Michael’s sweats and boxers, not bothering to ask before pulling them down because he knows Michael won’t know what’s okay to say. He just does it because he’s sure Michael won’t mind, free blowjobs are always welcome and Michael’s never been shy about talking about what he likes even if he’d never admit who he likes.

Luke isn’t surprised to find that Michael’s hard. Michael takes note that he definitely should be surprised, or hesitant at the very least. But Luke looks pleased about it, the smug little fucker, like he knew Michael would be hot for him or something, expected it even. Michael feels punch-y again until Luke’s smirk slides over the head of his dick and he tongues the slit so well that Michael forgets about hitting things.

“Shit.” He breathes, head pushing back into the couch cushions and fingers aching to get a hold of Luke’s hair.

Michael isn’t cold anymore, in fact he’s way too hot, and Luke’s mouth is hotter, wet and searing hot and sliding further down his dick and heating things up and Michael is starting to sweat. His body is tense and he’s squirming while Luke sucks at him greedily, expertly like he’s done this before and Michael might be feeling a little jealous. Then Luke sucks harder and gags a little, coming up halfway and pumping the rest with a tight fist. 

Michael’s close already. He feels so stupid, like a dumb horny thirteen year old beating one out to some porno magazine he stole from Calum who stole it from his cousin. It’s pathetic but Luke is clearly okay with this recent development, slurping away happily like Michael’s some popsicle he just bought from the ice cream truck. He sucks and sucks and sucks until Michael’s arching up and shoving his head down hard and he’s choking and drooling and it’s so fucking sexy that Michael comes even harder than he’d thought he would. It’s nearly painful but it feels so good and he really should be worried or sorry even with how deep he’s got his cock down Luke’s throat but he doesn’t, not yet at least.

“Fuck, oh my god.” He murmurs, Luke’s continual gagging pulling another short spurt of come from him.

He pants and finally releases Luke’s head, which pops up and off of him quickly. Luke gasps in air, face red and eyes droopy, resting his head on Michael’s hip and watching him calm down. He coughs and his eyes squeeze shut and now Michael feels sorry.

“Maybe warn a guy next time you decide to suffocate him with your dick.” Luke rasps, sounding fucked.

“Sorry.” Michael offers, petting the sweaty hair by Luke’s temple.

Luke swallows harshly but smiles anyway. 

“Do, uhm, do you need me to—“ Michael wonders, gesturing vaguely towards where Luke’s dick is. He’s thinking about Luke’s dick, wants to know what it feels like, what it tastes like.

“You don’t have to. S’okay.” Luke tells him honestly, and of fucking course Luke would be selfless enough to say that; god knows Michael wouldn’t be.

“Up. I want to.” Michael commands, guiding Luke backwards so that he sits up against the arm of the sofa. 

This Luke looks surprised by, like he wasn’t thinking Michael would want to help him out even after everything that’s happened. Michael’s insulted, mildly, because he kissed Luke first and now he’s got something to prove. He shoves Luke’s pants down, reaching in and pulling Luke’s dick out, sliding his hand over it and mouthing at Luke’s neck. He sinks down until he’s on his stomach and Luke’s dick in is his face. There is a dick in his face and he’s about to put it in his mouth, and more importantly this dick belongs to Luke Hemmings, Michael’s major gay crush for years now. And he’s going to suck his dick, and suck it so well that Luke will never doubt him again. That sounds like a good idea to Michael. Like, the best one he’s had in a while.

“You’re staring again.” Luke tells him, voice shaky, and when Michael looks up Luke looks desperate—needy.

It makes Michael look back down, grabbing Luke at the base and sucking him down as best he can so hopefully Luke can’t tell that this is the first time he’s done this. He’s not as bold as Luke, keeping away from his gag reflex and hollowing his cheeks, pumping the rest. Luke’s making hot little sounds above him, fingers bruising the couch with their iron grip and thighs shaking. His upper body squirms and writhes but everything under Michael keeps still, like he’s afraid of hurting him or taking things too far. Like he’s still thinking about Michael even when Michael isn’t thinking about Michael. Luke is dumb and Michael’s so in love and he just wants to make Luke come.

So he goes at it full force. He pulls out the stops and lowers his head down, as far as he can go and then some, and Luke fucking whimpers head lolling back and mouth going slack. Michael can’t help but want to get Luke to make that sound again. He keeps doing exactly what he was doing then, swirling his tongue around and paying special attention to the sensitive skin just under the head. Luke comes in minutes with a quiet swear and an arched back. Michael swallows it down quickly, resting on Luke’s thigh and trying to fully comprehend what the fuck just happened. Luke’s hand strokes his hair away from his face and Michael looks up to find that gorgeous little Vegas smile again. He smiles back.

“Maybe I should marry you. You give pretty kick-ass blowjobs.”

Luke laughs. “Blowjobs are the new proposal.”

Michael laughs back. “Get on both knees instead of one.”

They both laugh harder and Luke says, “Could you imagine walking around and just like, dicks. Dicks everywhere.”

Michael sits up and plants his lips onto Luke’s, kissing him deeply. “I’ll put my dick everywhere.” He mumbles against bitten lips.

Luke looks up and his eyes are shining. “Promise?” 

Michael eyes him carefully. “Yeah, if you want.”

“I do want.” Luke says immediately. “Have for a long time.”

Michael doesn’t really know what to say to that, because of course he can’t admit that he feels the same; he’s stubborn. But, as he kisses Luke again, he feels stupid for never having noticed his sentiments were mutual—he’s getting punch-y again just thinking about it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've used this site so I'm a little nervous. But please feel free to give me feedback and let me know what you think! There will be multiple parts to this, so stay tuned if you enjoyed!  
> You can also follow me on tumblr at www.senioritastyles.tumblr.com where I post writing as well :)


End file.
